Chapter 28

Location: Terra Nova

Date: March 6, 2025

Time: 1200

The fleet was in process of force on force maneuvers. Fast Attack Wings of Battlecruisers and Destroyers were moving back and forth their new commanders and testing measure of their ships and fighters. Terra Nova was alive with EDF fleet movements as the vastness of their military started tentatively feeling out its capabilities. Complex training software kept their ships and fighters safe from collisions and made their training fairly realistic.

But the vast new Earth fleet was having trouble. Their forces were having trouble properly coordinating and fighter squadrons ha a hard time sticking to their areas of operation and frequently strayed into the firing lines of their home ships. Fratricide was clearly the number one problem their gunners had, and situational awareness was their pilots' number one problem. But the ship commanders were doing well, engineering tests and damage control was progressing on schedule. There was a wrinkle to this progress. The larger the ships being analyzed the more problems they had. The destroyers were able to keep their performance pretty much within battle ready. The Battle Carriers were the exact opposite, needing more work than all the other ship crews.

However this didn't mean that Earth's Battle Carrier fleet was a dud, their ships were still the ultimate show Earth's newfound power. This was felt to be needed because of Earth's past of not being capable of engaging in large pitched battle and not letting the enemy get close to their homeworld. This paranoia was what drove this massive fleet expansion. The thirty Battle Carriers were the core of this fleet, Earth's sledgehammer.

They were divided into three different fleets, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. These fleets were divided into specialized units based upon specialties. These two types of units were patrol-type and strike-type. They were further divided into primary and secondary units. The primary patrol units Earth possessed were its Carrier Battle Groups, each with a CV-307 Halsey-Class Carrier, a single escorting BB-305 Alaska-Class Battleship, five BC-304 Daedalus-Class Battlecruisers, and ten DD-311 Huntsman-Class Destroyers. This was a good-sized fleet, able to enforce Earth's will far from its own colonies and bases. Earth's secondary patrol unit was the Fast Attack Wing, made up of four battlecruisers and eight destroyers. The Fast Attack Wings were smaller, faster, and not as strategically taxing to deploy. They were meant for less important duties or where the possibility of a hostile encounter in space was not as likely.

Although if there was a certainty of an encounter with a hostile entity Earth would deploy its strike units. The first to be deployed would be a Battleship Strike Group, centered around eight battleships, two carriers, twenty escorting battlecruisers, and forty destroyers. If a hostile opponent had to be destroyed with maximum effectiveness Earth's Battle Carriers would be called upon to deal with it. The basic Battle Carrier Strike Group was centered on a single Battle Carrier, with three battlecruisers and six destroyers. But when a numbered Fleet absolutely had to muster its Battle Carriers it massed its Battle Line. Ten battle carriers formed the core of this unit, and specifically attached to it was a force of sixteen battleships, forty-six battlecruisers, and eighty destroyers whose whole training was dedicated to operating as part of this fleet strike unit. Sixteen of these battlecruisers and twenty of the destroyers were specifically designated for the Battle Line, and rotated into and out of the patrol units as part of a rest and relaxation assignment, except for when the Battle Line was assembled.

A single fleet had a single Battle Line, six Carrier Battle Groups, six Fast Attack Wings, and two Battleship Groups. There was a third subcategory, planetary assault. They were simply known as Assault Groups, and had two carriers, eight battlecruisers, and twenty destroyers escorting a flotilla of ten LST-313 Fearless-Class Heavy Assault Platforms, and forty LSA-312 Enforcer-Class Assault Ships. Each fleet had a single Assault Group attached to it, and the ships in it were trained for ground support and escort duties as their primary specialization.

All of this meant that Earth's mammoth fleet was now more capable than its original members could have ever dreamed. But there was still quite a ways to go. Watching the maneuvers the fleet was undertaking their overall commander, General O'Neill, sitting on a chair in a briefing room along with other officers. The room was a theater almost, just smaller. The symbols and the loss and active categories signaled what the unit statuses were, and their individual ships also had symbols of weapons systems firing and shield impacts and hull impacts. It was a highly in-depth and detailed training tool.

"Well the Fast Attack Wings are doing well," O'Neill nodded, "Much better than the larger ships."

"That was anticipated sir, much less can go wrong on a smaller ship and we're more familiar with the 304's issues," Caldwell responded.

"Yes sir, this is true," O'Neill chuckled, looking back at the screen and then shook his head when a battleship got itself into some trouble, and began rapidly declining in shield strength, "Ah jeez, the Ammi…Ammirilago…" he said trying to say the name of the Italian crewed ship.

"Ammirilaglio di Saint Bon, not good. She got goaded into a crossfire and probably won't get out, write that down captain we'll need to address that. Sixth ship today that broke formation for a kill," Caldwell shook his head in disappointment, "Fighters that fly into flak-zones, slow formation assembly, and now kill-hungry skippers…Jack we have a long way to go."

"That's why we train. Keep them going," O'Neill encouraged him, and checked his watch, "Well, gotta see a general about a classified discovery."

"Tell General Carter we said high," Caldwell waved him off.

O'Neill nodded and walked out, coffee mug in hand and got a refill just outside the briefing room that was hosting the fleet maneuver watchers. The man walked along with his few aides who were always with him unless Jack entered some place that they were not allowed to be inside and that wasn't very often. Whenever he went to see Carter, that was a different story, he could count on a bit more of the feel of the old times.

As he rode in the black SUV with flags with his rank symbol on the hood he looked around at the base that was Ft. Jacob Carter. The lush trees and grasses kept a green look to it overall and the base buildings were new and modern, and there was always something new that he was going to see. While the car drove along a trio of lines of U/H-314 "Redtail" Helicopters, transporting a lot of infantrymen off towards the training grounds. He looked up and saw the numbers on the tails and figured out that they belonged to the 1st Infantry Brigade.

Ft. Jacob Carter, Field Exercise

The helicopters were smooth rides, their hulls being the same as the U/H-60 Black Hawk but with dual six-bladed ducted rotors in fully housed assemblies it was much more modern. Their tails were arranged in a 'V' to give excellent maneuverability along with a pair of fins on the tail assembly in the just in front of the tail. The weapons systems of the helicopter was a pair of seven-rocket rocket pods mounted behind the doors, two miniguns, and machine guns held by door gunners. Realistically though, there was always the squad of troops in their crew cabin with their own weapons to provide additional fire.

But today, Sergeant Hanson and his squad were not going to be doing that. They were on their way to an aerial insertion and then a long ruck march with a few live-fire courses on the way back. His battalion was doing this for the first time with live ammunition in their weapons and in their pockets. They'd fired off live ammo before in training. Hanson had earned his sergeant's stripes in the shoot houses they would be sweeping today, teaching his squadmates how to do so and leading the way and taking effective charge of his comrades. That had earned him the responsibility of being squad leader to the most unique group of individuals he'd ever dealt with.

The group of EDF troopers was sitting three to a side inside the helicopter troop bay, rifles at the ready as they flew over the base at low altitude. The pilots hugged the terrain, and began picking up speed in long lines as they climbed into the mountains. Hanson could see below them roads with a few vehicles and marching troops or the white-shirted PT uniforms of troops working out. Then the mountains parted and the pilots nosed over and went right at the sea-side valley where they were to land.

"Alright, here we go! Remember, secure your immediate front, and then wait for the word," he said to each section of soldiers, one on the left, on the right, and the ones immediately inside the helicopter.

"Roger that First Sergeant!" Corporal McFierce said quickly, throwing up a thumbs-up to her squad leader, and then leaned towards PFC Waters, "Don't anything stupid you giant muppet!"

"Piss off you Midlander trollop," the man responded, but got a swat upside his head by Sergeant Kirkham.

"Shut it!"

"Ten seconds!" the pilot said into their helmet speakers.

The ten seconds passed quickly, the helicopter leveled out and then dropped low enough so its skids just touched the ground. The squad piled out immediately, spreading out so they dropped into the ankle-deep grasses that swallowed them up as the helicopter hovered a second and then the whole formation lifted away. The swaying of the grasses continued as the next wave came down and the company was ordered to make for the sides of the clearing and find cover so no more than one company was exposed in the open at any one time.

They rushed the wood-line and they all dropped to their bellies, finding cover behind trees and logs and brush. Hanson began to go down the line and checked on everyone's cover as other EDF personnel, instructors began to go around and pointing out what an officer or NCO or regular troopers were doing wrong. Hanson saw that two of his rookies, Filmore and Turguoise, sitting there bunched up behind one tree. He knew he had to get over there before someone more senior chewed him out for them being bunched up the way they were.

"You're a perfect target, spread out," he said quickly to the two as he tapped Filmore, "He doesn't need an assistant gunner right now."

He looked behind to see if that had been seen and saw an instructor looking his way, but wasn't able to judge what the man was thinking or what he had been doing. Because he just stopped and then kneeled down next to a sergeant from another squad and spoke to him. With this off of his shoulders he himself got into cover somewhat behind his own squad as the next company rushed to the secure the area behind them and then the next charged to the rear and so on. The battalion was fully deposited without incident as instructors looked on, some in their unarmed Wolverine armored vehicles.

"Third Platoon, move it out," the radio called out in his ear and he knew that the march was to begin, "Loose column."

"Second Squad on your feet, columns, let's go. Weapons ready, we're in combat zone mode."

The squad moved out, knowing that they had a long way away from their finishing point with several live fire exercises between then and now. They slowly trudged with full packs and their complete combat gear and plowed through the brush, weapons raised above it and pointed out towards the surrounding bush. This lasted for a while until the lead companies got to the road. It was simple dirt affair, with a line of grass clinging on for dear life in between the sunken tire lines. Puddles were present every so often and the dirt was more of a slimy goop that clung to the bottoms of their boots as they trudged along in oppressive humidity and heat.

This was their everyday existence however, and they'd all learned a few tricks for dealing with the mud by staying further from the road itself and in the grass on the sides, giving their boots a quick scrape on roots in the road as they walked over them. Walking in the Terra Nova forest was always a shaded adventure, such were the monstrous trees that made up the canopy that they still covered up the sun, making navigation somewhat difficult without a compass. Wildlife paid the soldiers no mind so long as they left them alone, so birds, bugs, and other such creatures bounded, flew, or swung into sight every so often. Occasionally a hostile band of Red-Maned Terra Nova Baboons didn't want to give up the trail and the troops had to fire a few shots or toss a flash bang to teach them to steer clear.

Out here though, the greatest high profile danger was a split even decision between two land animals: A black-furred creature that was a cross between an elephant an a rhino that traveled in herds, the Nova Tusked Forest Rhino, and a large reptilian, named the Nova Dragon. Colored with a large band of blue on its tail it was superbly camouflaged and could grow to the size of a Komodo Dragon back on Earth, but with a folding crest of skin displayed along with aggressive territorial gargling roars. More than one EDF soldier had gotten jumped by one of these creatures, and so far two attacks were proven fatalities. Intar rounds had proven effective in beating them off, and several now laid in TNU's biology department with bullet holes in their hides, and one with a crushed skull from a tank plowing the stubborn beast over. Fortunately the Nova Dragon was rare, sticking to the swampy east of the island, where only combat drills were conducted. However the Forest Rhinos were everywhere, feeding on seemingly everything green and getting in the way of many vehicles and PT drills on man-made roads that were a favorite gathering spot for them now.

Sergeant Hanson sure hoped that they didn't run into any of them today, with such defensive creatures and lethally armed EDF troops a bloodbath would be highly likely. He didn't feel like explaining why he had dead troops and a bunch of dead Forest Rhinos to his superiors. The tree huggers were already a pain to deal with, best not to throw fuel onto the fire and stick to their training.

"Alright, we've got a target acquisition and firing exercise coming up," the lieutenant informed the squads under their command as they walked along, highlighting the location on the map, "Each platoon has thirty seconds, ten seconds per squad, make 'em count."

"Remember, short bursts, look for the unnatural, straight lines and right angles," Tess reminded the rest of the squad.

Then the firing began, live rounds in the first seconds of a firefight were like a tearing noise of automatic weapons and rifle fire. The EDF trained in rapid tactical dominance responding to attacks on their units. This was using the experience of many thousands of firefights in Afghanistan where the rules of engagement didn't let American and Coalition forces choose when and where to engage. Only rapid displays of firepower could salvage such a situation. The EDF's brigades were training in this method of fighting, and today a few of their tasks today would epitomize this.

The firing continued with a few gaps in between until they themselves reached the nearby hill that got to the rounded out area that looked out to the coast on a cliffside. Hanson could see the distant island of TNU with its multitude of domed white buildings and blocky dormitories on the beaches. Through the occasional tree and the shrubs that grew there Hanson looked out over at the island, trying to remember which class his girlfriend was in right now.

Terra Nova University

The class was in its lead-up to finals, and many different things were underway. Hannah and just about every single one of the students, had applied to be on board one of the several school's scientific research ships for one of two summer cruises across the galaxy. She was just waiting on a response to her application, and hoped that she would be one of the few that got to go this year.

As she sat in her dorm, looking through her student class web pages to check for posted grades from mid-terms, she felt her phone buzz with an email. Hannah gasped as she looked at it, and her roommate who was watching Netflix noticed.

"An answer already?" Zoe, her roommate, asked in her French accent, "Open it."

"Well here we go," Hannah sighed and opened the email with eyes closed, "Here it goes 'Congratulations! You are granted a scholastic trip aboard the University ship Beagle for the Summer I educational exploratory cruise!' I'm in!"

"Good job!" Zoe said excitedly, "You know why they got you in so fast right?"

"My near death experience, I figured I'd be able to milk that for something good," Hannah laughed as she leaned back and spun her chair around, relief washing the weight off of her shoulders, "First to go out on TNU's Summer Cruise. Wow, who would've thought it huh? Five years ago we were just scrambling to go to a university for some run of the mill degree for a run of the mill job. Now…hell I've talked with an alien, or not Earth-born Human at least."

"So jealous," Zoe sighed, "And you're going out with an EDF soldier. Living the dream of the new colonist."

"Oh come on, you're texting with one of his squad and you made a friend with that driver. You don't have to try to let yourself get too down he hadn't asked you out. The military doesn't get out much."

"This is true."

Hannah smirked as she looked up the interactive tour of the EES Beagle, an educational science and exploration vessel. It was T-Shaped, with classrooms, dorms, bare bones essentials like cafeterias and communal restrooms and showers, and of course labs. At four hundred meters long it could house a thousand students and staff with an operational crew of fifty. Terra Nova University had five of them and the Beagle was one of them.

Flipping to text she typed in a message to her parents that she'd been accepted aboard the Beagle for the first summer cruise, knowing that the cost, a hefty fifteen hundred dollars, would need to be accounted for. But her folks did alright for themselves and she was on scholarship, so the money wasn't an issue. That kind of cost though was more for the sake of paying the crews and faculty than the down payment on the ships and school. After all, nothing comes cheap.

P9X-992

"Earth's position is clear your highness," Brenda said calmly, trying impart Earth's classic political position, no trade, no alliance, just friendly relations, "We only wish to meet new people and make new friends."

"You must not understand what friendship between peoples mean my lovely guest," Viceroy Principe Gerates responded.

"Oh I know, and to Earth alliances are not to be entered into with just one meeting."

"Yet you want friendship? Friends do things for one another," Gerates responded as he emptied his goblet of wine and ordered it refilled, "What do you think you can do as friends of my people without trade or aid? Just seems like you're…there. Not worth dealing with or acknowledging."

"So what is it you want for simple friendship?" Brenda asked, trying to keep her tone friendly and open but she was getting tired of this worthless back and forth.

"Trade, it seems you," he motioned to her, looking her over in a way that she was not suited to in a negotiation, "possess many things we would like to trade for or purchase."

"I'm afraid that's not my decision to make without higher authority authorizing it."

"Then we can find things you can do."

The negotiations were not going as smoothly as Brenda was used to. In the first few minutes of negotiations the Viceroy Principe, Lord Garetes, had made it clear what it was he wanted. He wanted Brenda. This was what made things so awkward for Brenda Jackson, a professional politician whose career was made at negotiation tables where allowing any of this to happen was beyond belief. Yet out here on a distant planet with distant customs she couldn't just berate the sovereign head of state of this place because he was undressing her with his eyes. This was just not in her training or political instinct, yet it sure was in her own personal instinct.

"So my dove," the man said, laid back and completely at ease, "What is it you want from me?"

"Nothing but friendly relations, an understanding of friendship between our peoples," Brenda responded.

"Friendship, yes I…wish that too. So do our own friends."

"Your friends…are other peoples and governments?"

"Of a kind," Gerates shrugged, not giving a straight answer once again, flashing a now well-known smile that was a sign of his obvious interest in her.

Fighting both competing mental forces was difficult enough but something else had started figuring into the equation. She hadn't quite understood it at first until just a moment before when Lord Gerates had made a comment on "previous trade alliances." Brenda began to suspect that these people, who called themselves Palleonan, were subject to some larger entity, whether it was as equals in a trade pact or as a protectorate or a vassal she couldn't quite judge for certain. Such things on Earth had been gone since the collapse of the Soviet Union, so she hadn't had any personal experience with that, but her father did. He was an aide to the Ambassador to Hungary in the early eighties, perhaps he would make sense of some of this.

However, as the negotiations and introductions continued Brenda found herself in an odd position with the next question from Lord Gerates. The man, seemingly upon his own will decided he didn't want to continue this talk here anymore.

"I am hungry," he said loudly, "Come share some food with me madam."

Brenda didn't quite know what to say, and neither did Dr. Walt, who had been helping to translate for her whenever the Viceroy's English fell a bit short and to interpret some of the terms being used whenever they were used. Both civilians looked at one another, then back at their military escorts, Colonel O'Neill and Major Blanton, both having been standing by just in case. But lately, especially with the way that Brenda was being eyed up by the dressed up Viceroy they were on edge, and the possibility of him and Brenda being alone did not compute.

"So not happening," O'Neill said, shaking his head, pretty much ending any debate.

"I'm afraid that I have to return to my duties and decline your offer," Brenda said, and saw an expression on his face that she didn't like.

It was an expression of fury, as if he had just had something that was rightfully his rudely yanked away. She did not like it, especially from a totalitarian leader used to getting his way. To insult someone was not advisable, to insult someone with power and no idea how vindictive they were and on their turf was another level of bad idea. But it was probably even worse to be left alone with him.

"Very well, enjoy your stay," Gerates snarled, and turned his back and left, signaling for one of his servants to follow him. Out of the earshot of SG-1 he told the man with vindictive malice, "Send a rider to Rytera. Summon aid, these people are not what they say they are. If they find out what we are and how I am in power they shall ruin everything. And tell the mercenary I have a task that I require of him."

He knew exactly who the Taur'i were, and knew they would take issue with the way he ruled and how he came to rule here. The legend of the way the Taur'i enforced their ways upon the galaxy had indeed traveled far. And to those who didn't align with them the Taur'i were dangerous and had to be dealt with. For now, a show of strength would send the Taur'i away, but hopefully, if all went well, with an exception.

As a messenger on horseback galloped away Brenda and Dr. Walt were relieved to walk away without incident, and with their military escort pleased to be out of there. They walked down the steps, ready to return to their own people and get about some less stressful business.

"Well I don't think we want to send any more female negotiators to this guy," Brenda said once they exited the palace and out into the daylight.

"That's an affirmative," O'Neill responded.

"But there's no reason we can't enjoy this place, there is still quite a lot to see around here gentlemen, and lady," Dr. Walt said calmly as they left the gates under the watch of the advanced man in armor.

"It does have a certain attractive nature," Major Blanton admitted, and got a few odd looks from such a statement from him, "I did a tour in Sigonela in '17, food in Venice, out of this world. Get me a fresh octopus, a frying pan, and some olive oil, I'll treat you to a real taste of Italy."

"Sounds good, remind me take you up on that offer, been a while since I had a real Italian meal," Brenda said calmly as they walked down one of the tight alleys towards the market. There they knew that most of the team was there taking in the sights and trying to learn a few things about the area.

"Colonel, you return without hostiles on your back," Major Rosario said in greeting, joking around a bit.

"An amazing development, but Jackson's got an admirer, don't you?" O'Neill smirked as they joined up.

"Oh I'd call him a stalker almost. Same obsession, just without the creepy bit," Brenda said in mild agreement.

"I can only imagine, Walt, the good doctors have some translating they need done, may have found some medicinal herbs but need some help talking the language. My Spanish only goes so far with Latin," Rosario called to Dr. Walt.

"Lead on my dear," Walt said excitedly.

As he left Underwood and Ruby came up, each holding their tablets and Underwood holding a red crystal. Both appeared excited, a surprise in this primitive place for a pair of tech experts.

"Hey guys, look what we found," Ruby said as she held out the data crystal.

"Gou'ald data crystal?" Brenda asked.

"Oh yeah, got some good stuff, Gou'ald computer virus development. Not exactly sure what else it could be beyond that, we're just starting to get it decrypted," Underwood said quickly, "Maybe this planet won't be a 'film this' and 'hold this' day."

"How'd things go for you Brenda?" Ruby asked.

"Got an admirer…"

"Stalker…and nothing really important here, but overall I might have something to investigate into. I think that he's a member to a larger network of civilizations. Hard to tell, but the government here could be a vassal or a protectorate to someone more powerful," Brenda mused, her mind chewing on the evidence she'd noted in the negotiations.

"More powerful?" O'Neill asked, "Like advanced technology powerful?" he specifically inquired, then saw the form of the advanced armor suited man walking over them on one of the skywalks that overlooked the market they stood in, "Like that guy?"

Brenda looked up as O'Neill pointed up at him and the armor suit with its one-eyed helmet examined them all with his arms over his chest.

"Underwood, give me a breakdown of that guy," Blanton ordered as he readied his rifle.

"Advanced, very advanced," Underwood responded, "I can't tell if he's got a weapon, but then again I don't know if he needs one right now."

"Why's that?"

"They have weapons," Ruby responded, pointing to a two-wide column of leather armored and steel helmeted soldiers carrying matchlock muskets with their cords lit.

The other members of SG-1 backed off, and readied their P90's and rifles and the one machine gun they had with them right now. They all began moving backwards, and O'Neill figured it out when more of those soldiers move up to the sides of the armored man who appeared to be directing them. A man with a red horse hair crested helmet stood to the side of the thirty or so soldiers on the market square as civilians scrambled to get out of the way.

"Okay, grenade launcher," O'Neill began.

"Here boss," Rosario piped up.

"Bridge above us, pop it on my word, civilians turn and run, shoot anyone who levels a weapon at you, Blanton you're leading them out," O'Neill said, "Brenda, got on the horn and tell your two nature lovers outside the city to beat feet for the gate."

"You got it," Brenda said as she started getting really anxious about what they faced.

Then a call from the commander sounded out and the group of soldiers formed their ranks and the first rank kneeled, and then with another order they all leveled their muskets at SG-1. This was just what O'Neill was waiting for in order to be justified in firing in self-defense.

"Fire."

Rosario curled her finger around her forty millimeter launcher and it thumped in response and the high explosive round struck the walkway. With an almighty explosion that began dropping stone down into the square along with the men on it. This debris and smoke fell in between SG-1 and the larger group of soldiers who were surprised and didn't fire, knowing they only had one shot. But SG-1 began firing themselves, shooting over their heads and then red tracers lit them all up and they realized their more potent threat was still in fighting shape.

When the grenade had gone off jet thrusters on his back ignited and the powered hinges in his knees jumped him over to the side and he was now being pushed against the building by those thrusters as he was firing down at them with an automatic projectile weapon. The military members fired back, and when a few rounds got too close the man stepped into a window and with the aid of the limited power of the jet thrusters he rolled inside and out of sight.

"Go!" Blanton yelled as he led the way through the tight climbing alley steps towards where they had come from.

Without much else needing to be said they all took off as the local soldiers burst from the dust and fired a few shots, encouraging SG-1's retreat. They followed closely, and as they followed a window burst open on the top floor of the building the advanced armor wielder had ducked into. He leapt out of that window and landed on the shallow curved roof of the one next to it and ran along the roof, shadowing SG-1, eyes on his target.

"Captain Pauley! It's Brenda!"

"What is it? We just heard gunshots," the captain escorting her geologist and biologist asked.

"We're bugging out, things went hot, they're shooting at us, get the others to the gate and back to base. Colonel's orders," Brenda said quickly.

"Roger that," Pauley responded on his end.

"They're on their way out."

"Now let's get out ourselves!" Dr. Underwood said as he ran alongside her.

Bursting from the alley into a main street SG-1 knew they were close as Hailey and Gibson stayed behind to provide cover fire from a cart of firewood as their pursuers came around a corner and dropped five of them almost instantly. But not willing to stray far they broke off.

"Peeling!" Gibson yelled out as he Hailey broke for their next position.

"Cover!" Dr. Walt ordered everyone as he saw a wall of enemy soldiers form up behind them and level their weapons.

A tearing sound accompanied that order and SG-1 dropped to the sides just in time as lead balls zipped through the air and impacted with kick-ups of dust and several sparks as the balls flattened upon impact or shattered when they hit something harder than wood or plaster.

"They're reloading, run!" Walt instantly advised, turning and firing his own P90 with a surprising amount of accuracy and dropped several enemies with a fully automatic burst that caused their pursuers to drop into the sides for cover.

The group made it to another bridge over a lower street that was close to the gate where they'd entered. However this was the chosen ambush point. The brown advanced armored man kicked into action once more, and this time he dropped right down from thirty feet at a run right into the center of SG-1's team formation. As he landed he kicked Underwood in the side, causing the scientist to jolt to the side from the force and topple almost over the edge so that he was clinging onto the stone railing. With a backhanded slap of his right hand he swatted away Holden's rifle and punched the woman across the face, cutting open her cheek and heavily bruising the left side of her face and sent her sprawling out against the railing. Then without a wasted move he grabbed Brenda her weapon she lifted her P90 to point it at him and yanked her in towards him. With her stumbling forward he leaned down and grabbed her with his right arm around her waist and effortlessly lifted her off the ground and then jumped off of the bridge to the ground fifteen feet below.

It all happened so fast no one was capable of stopping it. A mere two or three seconds was all it took for him to drop down, defeat the SG members in reach, and grab Brenda. Once on the ground Brenda got her bearings and pulled on her pistol, tearing away the button secured strap. Pointing the forty-five caliber pistol into her captor's back she fired several shots that dented the armor viciously and she heard a muffled grunt from him as he threw her into an alley. Waiting there were several of the Viceroy's own bodyguards who she saw immediately and lifted her weapon at them. They flinched away but then her pistol was ripped from her grasp. Brenda turned to see her pistol in the advanced armored glove as she realized her defenses were gone as he tossed the weapon back into the street, where O'Neill saw it skitter to a stop.

"Jackson!" O'Neill yelled down to her, out of sight.

Hearing him, and knowing his history of rescue missions despite all odds Jackson yelled back as she felt the hands of the guards grab her roughly, "Get out of here! Go! Get the others back to base!"

"I'm not leaving you!" O'Neill replied, but then flinched down as another few musket balls zipped past his head.

"We have to go sir!" Blanton responded quickly as he yanked Underwood up from where he was clinging to the railing, his legs flailing as he tried pulling himself up.

O'Neill looked down, knowing this was going against everything he stood against. But he had a dozen more members of the team to safeguard. He couldn't risk their safety for just one person, as cynical a mindset as it was, he had no choice, with the old SG-1 he might have been able to divert and rescue her, but not with a group as large as the one he had now.

"Fall back!" O'Neill ordered loudly, kneeling down and firing his rifle at the soldiers pushing towards them and dropped several of them as they tried firing their muskets at his team as they ran towards the gate and then through it and ducked towards the first bit of brush they found and into cover.

Back with Brenda, the guards had bound her hands securely and were pulling her up towards the palace. She knew then what this was about, the Viceroy had been insulted, and he had wanted her. It frightened her to know that he'd specifically sent that man wearing the armor after her specifically and what awaited her now that she was effectively a prisoner. Her backpack was gone, and her hat was in the hand of one of the guards as she was marched in through the gates that were closed behind her.

There waiting for her to be brought back was Viceroy Gerates. She was dragged over to him, struggling all along the way. Brenda managed to push one of them into the fountain, and she got somewhat free but then she was grabbed by her hair. The follicles being pulled made her scream in pain before she could make a real move and with that keeping her under control she was then dragged to Gerates. Forced to her knees Gerates ran a hand under her chin and smiled in satisfaction.

"Hello little dove, welcome back."

Outside the gates SG-1 had to stop in a creek bed when Holden started having some trouble. Their sniper had toughed out the vicious blow that had landed across her face but the swelling and trauma to her head started getting to her once the pressure of combat was gone. Blood had covered her face and stained her collar as she had begun stumbling and the left side of her face had started swelling.

"Colonel, Lieutenant Holden's in bad shape," Dr. Lawson said as she shined a light into her eyes, but didn't like what she saw.

"Concussion?" O'Neill responded.

"Worse, could be a fractured cheek bone, and yeah, definitely a concussion of some kind."

"I'm okay sir," she said as gauze was dabbed around her cuts, cleaning her face up.

"I beg to differ Pat, you're not really an effective sniper right now," Dr. Tew said as he tossed the dirty gauze on the ground and then got a fresh one and poured some disinfectant onto it.

"Only losing my eyes takes that away," she said, holding in the gasps of stinging pain from the open wounds getting disinfected.

"Down, down!" Gibson quickly whispered and everyone ducked behind some of the low green underbrush or low trees.

The sounds of horses moved towards them and then rode past, and they could all see a red uniformed men on horseback with golden buttons and black piping with a black pith helmet with a golden crown emblem on it with a gold spike on the top and a long white horsehair sting from the back. They had black pants with tall leather riding boots and silver spurs. The team looked at them in curiosity, such a sight being rather unusual on this world since they seemed to belong to another era. But that era was still way behind Earth's as the long twelve-foot lances with white flapping flags proved.

"They look like Victorian British Colonial troops," Dr. Walt said with a gasp.

"The allies Brenda talked about them potentially having?" Blanton wondered as he pulled out his binoculars to get a good look as the forty or so individuals rode by at a trot, "Lances, swords, revolvers, and lever action carbines."

"Definitely allies," Walt nodded, "They must've planned this."

Then on the radio everyone was surprised when a familiar voice called out to them, "Colonel, it's Pauley, we have problem."

"Pauley you're supposed to be back at the SGC!" O'Neill snapped quickly.

"The gate's a kill zone, a group of potential hostiles has it covered with infantry, artillery, and several machine guns. Looked like old Maxims," the man said quickly.

"This is not what you want to hear when you want to get the hell off a planet!" O'Neill growled, "Find a piece of defensible high ground, we'll come to you. We lost Jackson, she got captured."

"She's what? Captured?" the voice of Dr. White interrupted them.

"We gotta go get her, we're gonna go get her right?" Dr. Lopez asked, well it was more of a demand.

O'Neill looked to his team, trying to get a read on if they were up to a potential rescue mission. His big question was with Lt. Holden. She had a gauze bandage on her face that was held on by a tight wrapping that went across her nose and around her head. The young sniper gave him a nod, showing her willingness to be in on this fight.

"If we do this I might have to ask you all to be out here with only one or two military escorts," O'Neill suggested to the civilians.

"As long as Holden's under close observation," Dr. Lawson said quickly.

"We've been training for this, Colonel, we got this," Lopez said quickly, "I'm ready to go. Let's do it."

"Okay…" O'Neill nodded, looking around getting a nod from Major Blanton, "SG-1, move out."

Well it's time for some action I think. I've been putting off action for too long and it's time I do what I do best. And I do believe I have an apology to make for a mistake I made regarding Brazilians speaking Portuguese rather than Spanish. I know they speak Portuguese, I had just made a mistake in regards to the country in question. Originally it was going to be Peru, but I changed it to Brazil and forgot to change the Spanish part. I know, and I'll get it changed as soon as I can. It's a bit embarrassing, because I usually remind people that Brazilians actually have a more interesting history with Portugal than the old Spanish Imperial colonies do and thus speak Portuguese.

Now that's out of the way I think it's time to end this chapter. Gonna be some real action coming pretty soon, I promise.

Next Chapter Preview: The Colonials face off against their new foes once more, and the Battle of Sagittaron begins.